While traveling in the east, I was received by some good people who insisted that even though I had just celebrated Christmas, it was actually time to celebrate the birth of our Lord a second time two weeks later. Since they were providing cookies and cake, I obliged them. I even got this poem as a gift from a mysterious figure calling himself 'Father Frost'.
Beneath a star in Bethlehem,
A king is born tonight
To lift the weight of all the world
A babe sleeps sound and tight.
Beneath a humble stable roof
A Virgin mourns her birth
Her son has come to bleed and die,
To bear a cross and tear the sky,
And bring heaven down to earth.
Above the stars of Bethlehem,
The angels sing for joy
Let shepherds quake and kings bow down,
The gates of hell shake at the sound,
Of this sleeping baby boy.
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